


The Fantastic Drowse of the Afternoon Sunday’s

by tie666dye



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tie666dye/pseuds/tie666dye
Summary: In the bustling summer of '69, Roger Taylor is on the hunt for a new lead singer. Upon meeting an enchanting man at the Kensington Market, his life is forever changed. He is royally fucked.





	1. Lookin' round to find the words to say.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy! un-betaed so let me know if anything seems amiss!

It was the summer of 1969, Roger Taylor was currently studying biology at Imperial College in London. He was only 20 years old at the time and quite frankly, didn’t give a shit about the degree he was working on. Him and a good friend, Brian May, had started a group with their buddy Tim, and Roger had fallen in love. He had found his passion- the drums. He had of course played since he was 14, but upon meeting Brian, a new love and world had opened up for him. It was as if they made magic when they played together, and Tim’s lyrics weren’t so bad, plus their voices blended perfectly together- it had truly been fate. So why was this happening?

“You’re surely joking!” Roger exclaimed, waving his hands in the air as he took a drag of his cigarette. They had just finished a great show- so why was Tim wanting to discuss this now.  
“Humpy Bong is going places!” Tim replied, face bewildered as if it wasn’t obvious.  
“Humpy Bong. Think about this Tim. Really think!” Brian tried, but his plea fell on unhearing ears.  
“I’m sorry guys, this just… this isn’t enough for me anymore.” He said with a sigh, swinging his guitar case and turning on his heel, beginning to walk away.  
“Eh, fuck ya anyways.” Roger groaned, leaning against his car as he tossed the butt of his cigarette after Tim and flipped him off with his now free hand. He was absolutely devastated, but he’d be damned to let Brian know that.  
Brian sighed, taking a sip of his beer and looking up at the night sky.  
“What now, Rog?” Brian thought aloud, Roger taking a swig of his beer as well. The younger man gave a shrug, pushing himself up and off the vehicle before clapping Brian on the shoulder. “Back to square one I suppose.” 

\---

That was how Roger found himself standing outside Kensington Market, a bustling place for vintage clothing and decor, plus anyone who was a little… different. They came here to hang out and shop, so if they needed a singer who could capture someone’s attention he figured this would be the best place to start. Roger was clad in a black pair of bell bottoms, his spackled black and brown fur coat pulled over his small frame, and a dark pair of shades covered his eyes. He figured he would need to look the part too- not that he didn’t dress like this daily. Stepping inside the market he could hear faint jazz music being played, a stale scent of cigars lingering in the air as he perused around, looking at all the nice silk shirts and scarves. As he made his way further back, a loud booming laughter caught his ears, the sound almost melodic in nature. Roger followed it to a small stall in the corner where a man sat with his back turned, flamboyantly waving his hand as he told what looked to be an elaborate story, a pretty blonde woman poised in front of him covering her mouth as she laughed. 

The woman met Rogers eye then, hopping off her stool and walked over to greet him, the man who was speaking turning around and quickly averting his gaze.  
“Welcome! I’m Mary!” She said with a smile, reaching out to stroke the fur of Rogers jacket.  
“I do fancy your coat! We sell one quite similar where I work! Freddie, come meet our guest!” She motioned to the man, Roger giving a toothy grin to them both.  
“Roger, miss. The pleasure is mine.” He took her hand and kissed the top, her cheeks flushing a bit as she smiled and looked over at Freddie who had come up beside her.  
“Hello, Roger you said?” He held out a hand, Roger giving it a shake before kissing it as well with a laugh and a wink, the taller mans cheeks tinged a bit pink. Freddie pulled his hand back, wrapping one arm around Mary.  
“Were you looking for something?” He asked Roger, the blonde straightening his posture and offering the pair a dazzling smile.  
“Your laughter was quite intoxicating, and I see you have some drinks for sale? Mind if I join you lot?” He asked, pulling a fiver out of his pocket and handing it to Fred. The dark haired man grinned, motioning for him to come further into their makeshift tent. 

The pair had set up sheets separating the corner into multiple rooms, each housing different items of decor or clothing and in the very back, a low to the ground table resided with a bunch of pillows around it on the floor, and a tin bucket filled with ice and stuffed to the brim with liquor and beers. Roger had apparently walked into heaven.  
“I have more cash as well if we enjoy our time.” He said with a laugh, noticing how Mary and Freddie looked at each other as if something was up. Roger rose a brow.  
“Everything alright loves?” He asked, taking a step into the area as they sat down and passed over a couple beers.  
Mary gave a soft laugh, shaking her head as she popped the cap on her drink and clinked it against Rogers bottle.  
“You’re the drummer from Smile, aren’t you?” She asked, taking a drink as Roger sputtered his sip.  
“You- you know Smile?” He asked, a grin taking over his features as he moved his sunglasses up on top of his head, his dazzling blue eyes only enhancing his happiness.  
“Well, fuck darling, that must be the reason you’re called that, look at how you are.” Freddie said with a flourish of his hands, lips moving down to cover his grin.  
“Of course we know smile. Freddie here has been your biggest fan for quite some time now!” Mary outed with a wink. Freddie’s cheeks went red, all the way to the tips of his ears.  
“I’m flattered, truly.” Roger said to the man, noticing how through their whole interaction, Freddie almost always hid the one thing they were talking about- his smile.  
“Actually, I was in the area on band business ya see…” he started, taking a long drink of his beer. “Tim, our singer, has left to join ‘Humpy Bong’, the insufferable git.” He groaned, giving a flourish of his hand.  
“We’re looking for a new singer right now and I was just putting the word out, see if anyone can direct me to a star.” Roger teased, noticing how excited Mary became and how Freddie immediately looked down at his hands, fumbling with a string on one of the pillows around them.  
“Freddie here is in a band as well, he sings for Sour Milk Sea.” Mary explained, winking at the man in question. She busied herself with her drink, striking up a cigarette that… wasn’t a cigarette, okay, a joint Roger supposed, passing it to the dark haired man who grinned fully and finally, much to Rogers amusement.  
“You’re a singer yeah?” He asked, taking another swig.  
“Such an… unusual appearance for a front man.” He didn’t want to insult the man but Roger has never seen someone who looked how Freddie did. The mans skin was a beautiful tan- sun kissed with freckles across the bridge of his nose, his dark hair complimented it strikingly, and the jawline he had could have sliced anyone who dared to get too close. Not to mention his teeth, they were big, that much was for certain, almost protruding from his mouth. Roger apparently was staring because he saw Freddie’s spiteful smirk cover his teeth, and his lips pull down into a frown. Roger looked up to his eyes, flushing red with embarrassment.  
“N-not an insult, a compliment rather..” He stammered out as Mary was quiet, Freddie looking over to the woman.  
Freddie scoffed, hitting the joint that gayily sat dangled between two fingertips.  
“Maybe not a singer for a band called Smile,” he seethed, “But, yes dear. I do sing.” His jaw was set, Roger averting his eyes down to his lap before he saw Freddie’s hand pass him the joint, the older mans dark eyes watching him suspiciously. 

Rogers dainty fingers grabbed the joint by the filter, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep inhale, the warm smoke swirling behind his lips as he breathed it out through his nose. He hit it once more before passing it to Mary, looking back and offering a hand to Freddie.  
“You could definitely sing for something stronger than Smile, surely.” He tried, wanting to not put his foot back on his mouth. Freddie gave a proud smirk, eyebrows raising as he let out a barking laugh.  
“You could say that again darling, Smile could never compare to the stardom I produce on stage.” Freddie teased with a smirk, his confidence coming in strides as far as Roger could see. The blonde man quirked a brow, taking that as a challenge.  
“Oh yeah? How about you bring your spoilt milk,” Freddie gave a bewildered full-stomach laugh, “to Harding’s Pub tonight and we will have a play off?” He asked, hand still outstretched to Freddie. The man watched it quizzically, before clapping their hands together in a firm handshake.  
“You’re on, blondie.” He smirked.

\---

Upon informing Brian of the brilliant plan he had come up with, he was met with a very audible groan. They were in the schools library, sharing an double sided desk to where they could work and face each other. The librarian shot the curly haired man a glare, Brian laying his head down on the book in front of him.  
“It’s a good plan okay!” Roger whispered angrily, pouting a bit at the older man.  
“I didn’t see you making any effort hm?” He taunted.  
“You do realize we have no one to actually sing for us, correct? Even so! You don’t know that he’s good! You could have invited the worst band this side of London to our regular gig spot and if they suck then we’re out of a place for shows when we do find a singer.” He hurriedly whispered back, trying to keep his voice as low as possible while still trying to convey to Roger how much of a dumbass he was. The blonde sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in a huff.  
“Well if he sucks, I’ll get to hit on his girlfriend while they play. If he’s good, he’s already a fan, I’m sure we could convince him to join.” Roger shrugged, the plan seeming flawless to him.  
“I’m going out for a smoke. Also, you know the songs Brian, I know the harmonies. Tim wasn’t that big of a show man anyways.” 

As the night rolled around, Roger sat in his dormitory room, running a coal liner under his eyes, ruffling his hair into disarray and popping in his contacts, the blurry features of his face becoming sharp and clear in the mirror. Turning around from the makeshift vanity he had set up on a stack of records, he looked at the poster him, Brian, and Tim had made up on his wall. Attached to the drawing were the first band photos they had taken together. Roger approached the wall, untacking the poster from the wall and rolling it up, stuffing it under the single mattress pressed into the corner of the small room.  
The man strolled to the opposite wall, swinging open his closet. He untied the belt around his waist and let the bathrobe he was getting ready in drop to the floor as he grabbed a pair of stonewashed denim jeans, pulling them onto his small legs with little to no effort. He browsed the few tops he had hanging and decided on a basic white button-up that was particularly flowy, leaving the top four buttons undone. Roger slipped into his most recent self indulgent purchase, a sparkly pair of light pink converse high tops, covered in sequins. He laced them up tight, loving the way the shoes would press against his feet while he drummed away. Checking himself out in the mirror he decided he needed another piece to complete it. He had picked up a pair of suspenders from Freddie’s stall earlier that afternoon, clipping them to his jeans and adjusting the straps over his shoulders. They gave him just enough color to make the outfit pop, and pulled his jeans nice and tight around his butt, just how he liked. 

Roger winked at himself in the mirror and grabbed the keys to his room and his wallet off the desk next to the door, pulling it shut as he left and made his way off campus, the Pub he was heading to about a five minute walk away. He smoked a cigarette as he walked, running over the three songs they had decided to do for the night, humming a bit to warm his voice up- not that the cigarette was helping. Arriving at the pub he quickly made his way inside, saying a quick greeting to the bartenders he had come to recognize by playing here for the last year. He found Brian up on the main stage, joined by Freddie and Mary who were standing alright up against the edge and introducing themselves.  
“Ah! You made it!” Roger exclaimed with a bright smile.  
“Of course darling, had to make sure we were going to blow you away, no?” Freddie retorted with a smug grin, shaking Rogers hand and handing him a beer he had ordered for him. Roger took it and quickly brought it to his lips, thanking the man.  
“Oh, and I see you’ve met Brian!” He gestured to Brian who was setting up the amps, and the lanky man gave yet another wave to the pair, Mary giggling.  
“Yes, yes we know Brian. I’ve been following you lot for a year now.” Freddie explained, taking a swig of the vodka and tonic he had in hand. Brian’s ears perked up at that.  
“Rog has said you were a fan, but surely you’d have spoken to us by now, following for so long?”  
Freddie flushed, cursing under his breath as he waved the comment from Brian off, Mary stifling a snicker under her breath as Fred shot her a glare. Roger nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah! Why not just come up and talk to us? We’re just a student band. Not that big a deal!” He teased with a wink in the mans direction, Freddie clearing his throat as he averted his eyes towards the door where his band mates strolled in. God they looked dull, Roger mused, giving a bit of an eye-roll as Freddie quickly made his way to them, not bothering to respond to Roger. 

After around thirty minutes of helping Brian get the stage set up and they had a decent sized crowd towards the front of the stage. Freddie and his gang of hooligans had taken refuge along the bar, Freddie again telling an elaborate story punctuated with flicks of his hands, hands Roger noticed he could never seen to take his eyes away from. They had prepared a couple of songs, finishing up with ‘Doin All Right’ since it was a pub favorite. The first two songs went smoothly, Brian’s voice not as strong as Tim’s but the guitar solos more than making up for his absence. When Roger announced the final song, he saw Freddie’s head pop up, an excited grin on his face as he let out a whistle. Roger got a mischievous smile on his face, purring into the mic.  
“From our guest band tonight, we’re goin’ to have their front man lead us in our final number.” He beckoned Freddie with his finger, the older man rising a bit taken aback as he approached the stage, shaking his head. Freddie sat down at the baby grand piano off to the side, Brian shooting him a confused glance. Fred winked at the taller man and shrugged, plucking away at the keys a bit as roger began his rapport on the drums.  
“Where will I be this time tomorrow?” Freddie purred out, Roger not able to help the wide smile taking over his face as Freddie continued, Brian and Roger joining him in harmony.  
“Should be waiting for the sun…” His falsetto was perfect, the right amount of clarity and rock and roll evident, and once the guitar really kicked in, Freddie couldn’t help getting up and dancing around on the stage, commanding the crowd in an almost mesmerizing trance. Brian had a look of awe and amazement clear on his face.  
Once the song was finished they got a tremendous amount of applause, whistles and hollars from the Pub. Roger beamed, laughing proudly into the microphone next to him, Freddie bowing as Mary beamed up at him from the bar, raising her drink to the showman. They made their way off stage and over to the bar, Brian ordering the three of them a shot, passing them to Roger and Freddie.The three men tossed them back together, 

As the night continued, the Sour Milk Sea never got to play, Freddie and Roger getting absolutely wasted after starting the binge drinking. Instead, they climbed the stage, singing badly howled karaoke, arms swung over each other’s shoulders. By the end of the night, Brian was leading a very intoxicated Roger to the door of the pub, an equally as stumbly Freddie following after with Mary attached to his waist. Roger gave a bright cheer as they stepped into the cool summer night, him fishing in his pocket for a cigarette as Freddie passed him one of his, striking his lighter and lighting both his and Rogers cigarettes at the same time, dark eyes boring into Rogers bright bloodshot ones with a slight smirk glinting in them. Brian cleared his throat, correcting Mary on a constellation she pointed out, the blonde woman giving an airy laugh and a thanks, asking him more about the cosmos as Fred and Roger had such an… intense moment. Roger was too drunk for this. He began his walk down main street, headed toward the campus as the other three toted along after him.  
“Hey Roggie?” Fred slurred, linking his arm with the man as they drunkenly stumbled along the cobbled path.  
“Mmm?”  
“If… If Smile truly needs a singer,” he hiccuped. “I could leave Sour Milk Sea.”  
Roger was quiet, his intoxicated brain mulling over the offer in his head.  
“I think we could be something, Fred. With you? I know we will be.” He responded, offering the dark haired man a cheeky smile.  
“Brian! Fred wants to sing for us!”  
The lanky man gave a cheer, Mary excitedly running up to the two stumbing men, hugging Freddie tightly around the waist, making their arms unlink. Brian caught Roger as he tripped, the two falling softly to the curb as Freddie joined them on the ground, Mary sprawling across his back. They all were laughing loudly and excitedly, feeling absolutely on top of the world.


	2. Wanted a woman, never bargained for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a long one for ya, chapter one was mostly set up. fair warning to you all while i will be writing kissing and such, this will not have smut. if and when that comes into play there will be an allude to it and that is all. were gettin into the heat of it now folks. again, if internalized homophobia or talk of homophobia triggers you, this might not be for you. it will have a good resolution. <3 love and light

The next morning when they awoke, Roger absolutely did NOT feel on top of the world. He immediately darted to the communal bathrooms across the hall from his dorm and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, giving a groan and rested back on the tile floor, his short red shorts riding up on his thighs. Roger pulled himself up to his feet, confident that the sickness had passed. Shuffling his feet, he made his way back into his dorm, only to be greeted with the sight of Freddle curled up in the space between the wall and the bed, his frame barely on the mattress with Mary curled up into his back. Brian had fallen asleep where they had sat once arriving back to Rogers, the four being too slaughtered to even go their separate ways and just stopping at the closest place. Roger had let the couple to his bed, a couple blankets crumpled in the floor where him and Brian had made a makeshift palette. The blonde threw himself back into the floor, pulling one of the blankets over him with a groan. The noise stirred Brian, his puff of curls poking up from behind a makeshift pillow of Rogers fur coat. 

“Nnh, what time is it?” He asked, rubbing at his bleary eyes. Roger looked up at the alarm clock on the nightstand, sighing.  
“Seven fucking AM.” He groaned, covering his head with the blanket. Mary let out a soft deep breath, adjusting in her sleep as the not so hushed voices woke her up.  
“Oh, morning, doves..” She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, Rogers eyes trailing down the soft curves of her body, a sinking pit settling in his stomach as he looked away. What the fuck was that. Freddie woke not soon after, sitting up and pressing a kiss into the back of Mary neck, glancing over at Roger as he did so, the woman making a small content hum leaning back into his embrace. Roger ran a hand through his messy locks, detangling them with his fingers and avoiding the gaze from the older man.  
“Hope you all slept well.” He mused with a sleepy smirk, Marys cheeks flushing.  
“How rude of us, Roger. Our first day knowing each other and were already in your bed!” She exclaimed in a teasing manner. Roger chuckled, Brian giving a warm smile to them all.  
“I apologize if I snored,” He said bashfully, uncovering himself from the tangle of blankets, straightening his pants legs that were twisted all wrong on his long limbs.  
“Dear, we were all so wasted I couldn't have noticed if I tried.” Freddie gave a flick of his wrist, rolling his neck to work the kinks out of it.  
“At least it’s a Sunday. Don’t have to worry about this hangover or missing class.” Roger sighed, looking up at the pair on his bed with a squint.  
“You're the lead singer of Smile now, yeah?” He asked, being met with the largest unapologetic grin he’d ever seen from Freddie- which wasn’t saying much since he decided to hide those things. Roger found himself wishing he could see it more.  
“I’d be honoured.” 

\---

It was now September, the cool fall breeze rolling in with the rain. Around a month had passed since that fateful day at Kensington Market, Freddie, Roger, and Brian spending every waking moment they weren't in class together, practicing and writing. It turned out that not only did Fred have a killer voice but there were some delicate and intricate poems rattling about in his brain. Roger was becoming increasingly enchanted with the man. His voice attracted him like a moth to a flame, hanging on every word and note that left his mouth.

Roger had been having an internal battle. For the past month since meeting Freddie, he'd been realizing that being around other men was awkward, and women even worse. The men would make his cheeks flush, blood rushing to points in his body they most definitely shouldn't have. He blamed that damn voice, and those eyes, seeming to bore into Roger at any and every given moment. It wasn't until one night, after being pissed at a bar and asking a bird home, that he realized he couldn't even stand to attention for her. Roger was mortified, but as soon as the thoughts of the ebony haired man entered his mind things went smoothly. Upon finishing Roger realized he was thoroughly fucked. It wasn't that the thought of queer people existing disgusted him, but the sheer terror of realizing that he might be a part of that category was enough to make his blood run cold. 

The incident of picturing Freddie under him passed as quickly as it had came, Roger going out of his way to avoid meaningless hookups, instead focusing more on the music at hand. Surely this infatuation would pass; Freddie was quickly becoming one of his best friends after all, and the thought of losing him due to such a poor excuse for argument was enough to make Roger bite his tongue and hold back his racing thoughts. It wasn't until Freddie suggested them finding a place together that Roger knew his ‘crush’ as he’d disturbingly come to view it, was going to be an absolute issue. 

Nevertheless, Roger agreed. He was never able to tell Freddie no, and it would make sense for them to find a place as Mary was going away to school and Brian was still living at home. Plus the dormitory Roger was in was pretty cramped. By Halloween the two men were settled in a small two bedroom studio, not too far from school, their residential pub, and Brian’s parents. Roger had to admit that living with Fred was more easy to do that he had previously thought. He was able to have women over and knowing Freddie was nearby made things go a lot smoother. If things stayed like this, he might be able to make it out of the trenches of self doubt quicker than he thought. 

Of course that would have been too easy though. On this night in particular Roger and Freddie had decided to stay in, drinking the night away and working on some logos for the band and tossing around names. Freddie wasn’t very comfortable with the name Smile and Roger did agree that it could be stronger.  
“What about Queen?” Freddie said, twirling a lock of his long hair in between his pointer finger and thumb.  
Roger gave a bit of a scoff.  
“Bit camp, no? Not really us.” He motioned between the two.  
Roger did notice the darkness that came over the older man's eyes, Freddie looking down at his lap before standing up quickly.  
“And what if I was, a bit?” He shrugged.  
“What?”  
“Camp.” He crossed his arms, the tips of his ears flushing red. Roger swallowed, glancing to Freddies parted lips. He was fucked.  
“Were not having this conversation, Fred.” Roger stood, about to pass by Fred to go to his room, but a sharp finger jabbed him in the ribs, stopping him in his tracks.  
“Why not, Roggie?” The nickname sounded like venom on his tongue.  
“Scared of what you might come to realize?” He asked, blue eyes locked in surprise with the deep brown.  
“You're drunk, Fred. Were both right pissed. Lets just go to-” Roger couldn't speak, he was embarrassed and not stable enough to make correct decisions. His head felt like he was spinning and all he could see when he closed his eyes was that damn cocky grin.  
“Are you tryin to tell me something Fred?” He finally asked, stumbling a bit as he looked back up at the man, balling a fist in the older ones shirt.  
“You trying to tell me youre camp? You're queer? That's what you want?” Rogers blood rushed in his ears, heart beating quickly. He faintly remembered the beginning of Dazed and Confused, but it was barely noticeable over the racing thoughts in his head, and the scent of Freddie so close to him; patchouli and myrrh. Freddie bared his teeth, twisting a fist in Rogers shirt where his finger was still jammed into the blondes ribcage. There was a beat. ‘Fuck it,’ Roger thought, ‘I can regret things in the morning.’

He didn't know who leaned in first but it was a flurry of hands on eachother, teeth clashing as they kissed hard, all the breath Roger had been holding suddenly swept out of him as the taste of bourbon and cigarette smoke filled his mouth. Roger had never had a kissed like this, ‘never kissed a man’ he thought, before pushing it out of his mind and becoming enveloped in Freddie once more. Strong hands came up to tangle into blonde locks, Roger giving out an appreciative groan as he tilted his head back, Freddie pressing a kiss to his jaw.

As soon as it began it was over, Freddie hands coming to drop by his side after cockily wiping his mouth. Roger took a deep breath, pushing his hair out of his face. They were quiet, Freddie clearing his throat after a moment, straightening his shirt back out.  
“Perhaps we should go to bed, you're right.”  
Roger avoided his eyes.  
“Yeah, Fred, g’night.” He muttered, finally walking past the ebony haired man, and slamming his bedroom door behind him, hot tears burning at his eyes.

When Roger awoke the next morning it was to Aretha Franklin serenading him. His head pounded as the night came flooding back in, the press of warm flesh up against him. After a moment of hesitation, Roger sighed and got out of bed. He shut the door to their shared bathroom loudly to let the older man know he was awake and proceeded to take a shower, hoping to knock the edge of his hangover off. Fifteen minutes and a change of clothes later he made his way into the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea, mixing one and almost a half spoons of sugar to it and clinking the silver spoon against the edge slowly. He heard Freddie enter the kitchen, feeling the other mans eyes on him.  
“Morn’ Fred.” He said, not meeting his eyes. Freddie gave a hum in response, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway.  
“Not keen on talking about last night?” Freddie asked, strolling over to the counter to make himself a cup as well; Roger moving over to the table to avoid contact. Fred scoffed.  
“Well, I've spoken to Brian, and he adores the name Queen so you seem to be outvoted.” He said with a smirk. Roger nodded.  
“It’s a good name, Fred.” He agreed- mainly in order to leave the conversation where it was and not face any if the burning questions he knew not only Freddie, but himself, had. 

Freddies smirk fell, moving uncomfortably and awkwardly before storming off to his room in a huff and a slam of the door. Roger tangled a fist in the front of his hair, sipping his coffee with a groan. Why him? Of course he would live with the most dramatic person this side of London, and he just had to drunkenly kiss him. Of course Fred was upset. Roger knew how he was, how Mary was the only woman he had dated, and probably the only one he ever would. Roger wasn't blind- he saw how Freds eyes watched the men more than the women, and it truly didn’t bother him! Freddie was his best friend. But, then, why? Why did in his stupor did he decide kissing the man would be the smartest choice? Why did he feel nauseous every time he thought about it, as if Freddies finger still dug into his ribs, twisting them up. 

Roger downed the rest of his coffee, the hot liquid pooling in his stomach while he made his way out onto their balcony that was attached to the living room. He struck a cigarette up, inhaling the toxic fumes with a satisfied sigh. The wind helped cool him off, tousling his messy hair. The quietness in the flat wasn't normal, he would typically arise and him and Fred would have breakfast before deciding what the day would look like, when they would have band practice, and just other laughable small talk. The silence was not a welcome presence in Rogers head, the anxious part of his brain looking to cover the quiet with its own infinite loudness in the form of questioning himself and panic. He sucked down the last of his cigarette, flicking it to the street below before taking a deep breath and making his way back inside, swiftly crossing over to Freddies door and rapping loudly on the front with a balled fist, as to drown out whatever record he surely had on.  
He was met with silence.  
“Fred, open up… please, Freddie?” He asked, trying to lilt the nervousness out of his voice as much as possible. After a moment he heard the lock unhinge, the door cracking open. Freddie backed away as Roger made his way inside and took a seat on Freddies bed, while the older man stood against his drawers, arms crossed and lips pulled taught against his teeth.  
“What, Rog.”  
“I just.. I think this is something we need to talk about. You’re my best mate.” He said. Roger was met with a gutted laugh.  
“What do you want me to say Roger? Sorry? That maybe I am more of what you were on about? I mean, fuck, honestly?” Freddie gave another sad laugh, running a hand through his hair as he paced, biting on the insides of his lips. Roger looked down at his hands in his lap, fingers fumbling for something to do.  
“I just, fuck.” Roger cleared his throat. “Maybe,” Fred raised a brow.  
He motioned for the blonde to continue but suddenly a look of panic washed over Rogers face, breath picking up. Freddie moved over to the bed, placing a hand delicately on Rogers shoulder as he balled his fists and pressed them into his knees.  
“Rog, lovie, we don't have to talk about this right now.” He sat down next to him, pressing their legs together and pulling him into his arms. “Come now, dear..” He sighed in his ear, hearing Roger hold back a sob.  
“I just… need to talk about this, Fred. You’re the only..” He started, stopping to take a shuddering breath.  
“I know.”  
“Okay..” he breathed, tilting his head up and sniffling, pulling out of Freddies embrace. 

Roger began to explain how he had been… having thoughts. Freddie almost blushed as he continued, talking about how over the past few months he had began noticing changes in his reaction towards mens advances when they would go out, and also about the visceral reaction in his gut he had. This wasn't something that was coming easy to him at all, not that it had for Freddie; but while coming to terms with himself, disgust is never a term he would have used. The word, however, is laced into everything Roger says. His fists remained clenched, as he finishes with a sigh, blue teary eyes peering up through heavy lashes. 

“But,” he continues, “I… Well, is it bad that I… I wouldn't mind kissing you again.” It wasnt as much of a question as it was a statement, Rogers jaw tense. Freddie chuckled softly.  
“How could I ever say no when you look at me like that.” He purred, heat pooling in his stomach as he reached up to Rogers face, wiping the tears that had clung onto his cheeks away, cupping his jaw and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the younger mans mouth in tentative fashion. Rogers bottom lip trembled, a hand moving up to Freddies shoulder as he leaned in himself, kissing Freddie soft and firm, breaking out through his nose as he relaxed into his side. The kiss was deepened soon enough, the sound of the damn Led Zeppelin album on again Roger noticed, ignoring it in favor of becoming intoxicated with the man pressed up against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all :)


End file.
